


Experiment 2A: Stanley Pines

by gerbilfluff



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerbilfluff/pseuds/gerbilfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, nerd. Y'think a guy can suck a dick and not be gay?"</p><p>Fiddleford spat the coffee he was about to swallow over the rim of the mug in his hand. He sputtered as he spun around in his chair to face the younger man, flustered. "Y-y-you *deliberately* waited 'till I had it up to my mouth to ask that..!"</p><p>Stan stared back, unblinking. "Didn't answer my question, nerd."</p><p>[Sequel to "A Night To Remember." Enjoy!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experiment 2A: Stanley Pines

**Author's Note:**

> It's that time again... All aboard the Fiddlestan pornfic train! This one's a sequel to "A Night to Remember." Y'know, that WIP on Tumblr I had going months back? Took a while, but it's done at last!
> 
> Many kudos go to Tumblr user hereissomething for coming up with how Mrs. McGucket would be game for opening up the couple's relationship, to nuttersincorporated for Stan calling Fids "nerd," and TeratoMarty for both knowing his lubes and teaching said expertise.
> 
> This fic contains explicit material between two men, including oral sex, anal sex, and talking dirty, and is in general NOT for the kiddos.
> 
> But you're not here for the intro. You're here for the porn, right? Settle down, there's enough here for everyone...

Experiment 2A: Stanley Pines

by Apricot the Gerbil

 

Hands in his pockets, Stanley walked up to the scientist there at his favorite work station in the basement lab. Nonchalantly, he asked over Fiddleford's shoulder, "Hey, nerd. Y'think a guy can suck a dick and not be gay?"

Fiddleford spat the coffee he was about to swallow over the rim of the mug in his hand. He sputtered as he spun around in his chair to face the younger man, flustered. "Y-y-you _deliberately_ waited 'till I had it up to my mouth to ask that..!"

Stan stared back, unblinking. "Didn't answer my question, nerd."

Fiddleford sighed in exasperation, then spun back to his desk to set down his mug, grab the nearest rag, and try blotting the coffee spatters from the papers strewn about. _"I_ don't know, Stanley." He tried to will away the blushing creeping onto his face, to no avail. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Pff. 'Cause I don't wanna ask my brother about dick stuff. Would you?"

"Well... no," Fiddleford began, before pausing to huff, "But what on earth makes you think _I'd_ know?"

"You're the only other guy I've ever had my dong in," said Stan with a shrug of his massive shoulders. "You do the math."

The scientist's arm paused before he returned to his damage control. "That was one time, Stanley. _One time,"_ he said firmly. "You were drunk. And I was... weak."

Stan grinned an impish grin. "Tch. Yeah. But wasn't it fun?"

Fiddleford was ignoring him. And not in the usual way Stanley was used to talking over. He stared off into the distance, like he was suddenly bogged down in his own thoughts.

"Oof." Stan sucked in his lower lip. "Your wife didn't find out, did she?"

The older man sighed, running his hand through his mop of hair. "I couldn't sit down for two days, Stan. Of _course_ she knew something was up."

Stan lingered awkwardly on the answer before beckoning, "And?"

Fiddleford stared at the rag wadded in his hand before dropping it gently to the table. "She... didn't leave. Got plenty mad that first night. Enough to think I'd lose her." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "But the next morning she was kissing me, saying she knew I liked experiments when she married me."

Stan blinked, taken aback. "Damn. Your wife's really somethin'!"

"That she is," the scientist said wistfully. His gaze sharpened as he saw Stanley open his mouth, could just _tell_ what his next question was going to be-- "So _yes_ we could do it again. So long as it's nothing she can't already do with me. That's what she told me."

Stan went from an excited "Woo yeah!" and an air-punch to a sudden quiet, turning that last part over in his head. "Wait. So she won't let anyone else suck you off?"

Fiddleford gaped at him in shock. "Why do you all of a sudden want to--"

"'Cause I'm _bored!"_ Stan cut him off, gesturing vaguely to the room with both broad hands. "You 'n Stanford know what you're doin' around this science stuff, but what'm I supposed to do when we're not on a monster hunt? Read stuff that's _not_ porno mags?" He scoffed at the very idea. "The gals in the magazines always look like they're lovin' it when they give head. And if you can't trust porn stars, who _can_ you trust?"

He noticed Fiddleford hadn't moved. "What? That too gross for you? S'not like I read 'em here in the lab. That often."

"--My wife won't do that to me," blurted Fiddleford. He looked off to the side and ran his hand along his other arm, fingers fidgeting over the patch at his elbow. "She thinks it's... degrading."

He turned to see Stanley's wide, toothy smile. "Th-that doesn't mean I'm saying yes!" he sputtered, frowning.

"Why not? How often've you got folks lining up to slobber on your knob for a while, big guy?" Stan teased him. "I know, I know, you're workin' on a big fancy machine that'll give us all the knowledge in the universe... but seriously, it can't wait ten minutes?"

Fiddleford gazed down at the archway blueprints before him. Closed his eyes and brought his hands up to cover them, breathing out slowly. His arms were shaking ever so slightly.

Stan went on. "If you're worried Stanford's gonna bust in, relax. Once he's snoring, you can't get that guy up for at _least_ another few hours. Believe me, there could be a werewolf tearing through here and he'd be sound asleep."

"It's not that." Fiddleford's hands dropped away, revealing an even heavier blush. "I've been thinking of asking you to try something between us again, myself. That night we... you know." He shifted in his chair, staring down at the tent arching the crotch of his pants. "I haven't been able to get it out of my head!"

"So why don't you wanna do anything?" Stan asked with his best hurt frown.

Fiddleford answered him flatly. "Because you're an egotistical moron who'll hold this over me _forever_ if I give in _again."_

Stanley reached to massage Fiddleford on the shoulders of his suit jacket, to a quiet whimper from the scientist. "Or I can keep buggin' ya about it forever, and you'll still wonder what it feels like to get your dick sucked."

Fiddleford gave a moan of defeat from the back of his throat. "I don't know how you _do_ this to me..." He reached to unbuckle his belt.

 _"There_ ya go, nerd," said Stan smugly through that particular grin he got when he'd gotten his way. Fiddleford knew it well. "That wasn't too hard, was it?"

"D-don't. Don't talk," said Fiddleford, yanking down the fly to his trousers. His pink cockhead bobbed up through the Y-front of his briefs, rimmed by a wrinkle of foreskin already drawing back in arousal. He looked away, then squinched his eyes shut behind his spectacles. "Just do it."

Of course, asking Stanley not to talk was like asking Stanley not to chew on the pens in the lab, and at Fiddleford's first soft moan as lips met tip, he felt the puffs of breath as Stan chuckled, "Jeez. You smell like hand soap _everywhere_ , don'tcha."

The scientist gripped at Stan's slicked-back hair. "Thought you wanted to keep your mouth busy," he muttered.

And he groaned, half in surprise, as Stanley took him in whole.

So warm. Fiddleford couldn't believe how hot the inside of that mouth felt, and how soft. To think, that any part of the muscled mountain on his knees before him could be delicate.

"Oh my... _god_ I... oh _Staaan...!!"_ he cried out in incoherent abandon, twisting his hand in the young man's hair to the curl of that tongue as it swished lazily up and around the meat of his shaft. His hips arched and bucked in his chair, dwarfed by this giant hunched over his lap, devouring him-- and went rigid with his gasp, as Stanley began to suck.

"You're too good! Stan you're too--" Fiddleford babbled, hands flailing at the sides of Stan's head, clenching at nothing. His dick slurped wetly between Stanley's lips as it disappeared down to his briefs and reappeared, again, and again, and _again_.

The scientist's fingers scrabbled at a wall of a back as Stan's stubbly cheeks hollowed like a porn starlet's. He begged him, "Stan, stop, I'm gonna-- right in your _mouth_ it's gonna..."

Stan's tongue flattened to lap over his ballsack through the briefs, before returning to engulf the head and suckle it mercilessly. Fiddleford was panting open-mouthed, voice tiny and pleading: "I can't hold on much longer would you _please--"_

Stan smirked, taking his lips off Fiddleford's crotch just long enough to look the older man in the eyes. "What if I _want_ ya to nut in my mouth?" he purred, and slurped the pounding between Fiddleford's legs back into that gorgeous wet face hole of his.

That was all it took. "Ahh... _AAH hah...!"_ wailed Fiddleford, clamping onto Stan's shoulders.

Stanley grunted quietly as the first mouthful of cum burst hot for him to swallow down. And another. And... another, and...? He coughed, letting go, eyes widening-- feeling a jet hit his cheek, streak his chin, his chest... before Fiddleford finally stopped making noises like he was being strangled and fell still, wheezing.

Stan stared down at him, mouth agape. "Jeez, nerd! Where you _keepin'_ it all?" he said with alarm, brushing the wetness from his face.

"Tried to... warn you, you wouldn't stop..." Fiddleford panted. "Happens sometimes if it's... been a while."

"Huh. Well..." Stan began, then brightened. "Yup! Still like boobs. Guess I'm not gay after all."

Fiddleford exhaled in a burst, his mouth souring to a frown. "You're honestly worried about--"

"Hey, I can't disappoint the ladies _too_ long, Fids!" said Stanley, smacking his own chest proudly. "And takin' a load in the mouth? That's like. The gayest thing ever. If I was into guys _at all_ , I'd know it by now." He paused. "Not gonna lie, though. For not bein' gay and all, that gave me a wicked hard-on. I'm surprised it's not bustin' through my pants here."

The two of them stared awkwardly at the bulge indeed very apparent along Stanley's tight jeans, then at each other, until Stan broke the silence, scratching the back of his head. "So, now that I know I'm not into guys, you wanna maybe... help me get rid of it?" His voice dipped low. "Like, with your ass?"

He snapped his fingers, pointing to the littler man. "It can be another experiment! Y'need to test stuff more than once to know if it works or not, right?"

Perhaps it was the post-orgasm endorphin high, but Fiddleford was surprised at how badly he _did_ want to do that very thing. He said nothing, merely standing from his chair to shuffle his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving him in his sock garters from the waist down. His face was still unbearably hot, feeling his limp prick and scrotum wobbling bare under his sweater vest and shirt tails. "There's... something in the top drawer," he mumbled.

Stanley opened the desk drawer, squinting at the half-empty tube he found rolling around with the paper clips and gnawed-on pens. "'Surgical lubricant'?" he read off, holding it up between thumb and forefinger. His eyes widened at the box of tissues he'd only just noticed among the papers. "Wait. You used this here at your _desk?"_

"Oh, don't look so surprised," Fiddleford scolded him. "You think you're the only one who's done some soul-searching since that night?"

"Soul-searching. S'that what you call it." Stanley shrugged. "Tch. Bet you took notes, too. Nerd."

Fiddleford closed the drawer before Stan could see the neatly folded pages in the back. "Th-that's none of your concern! Do you want this or don't you?"

"Sure, sure!" Stanley twiddled the tube between his fingers, glancing around the room. "You wanna try it over the desk again? For old time's sake?"

Fiddleford was silent for a moment in thought. "There's the cot in the back closet. The one Stanley uses when he pulls all-nighters. I'd... rather have some sort of a cushion."

"Yeah, okay," shrugged Stanley, He headed off to fetch it, bringing it back to unfold it and stand it up. He unzipped his jeans and shucked them to the floor next to the cot, then lay down upon it and gave Fiddleford a lascivious grin, stroking his own boner through his boxers. "Hop aboard! You look cold with no pants on. Like somebody oughtta warm you up."

As Fiddleford grabbed the tube of lube and carefully climbed atop Mount Stanley, he was surprised by the larger man's hands on him immediately-- wandering across the back of his sweater vest, pulling him down to scuff a stubbly cheek against Fiddleford's face. For someone so vocal about not being into men in any way, he was doing a remarkable job of cuddling his twin brother's assistant.

"It's... all just an experiment, right?" Stan asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "If it doesn't work... it doesn't work."

"O-of course," said Fiddleford.

Stanley's face hardened. "'Cause I haven't gotten that night outta my mind, either. And I wanna know. When's the last time you got yourself good 'n fucked besides with me, huh?" Stan asked, gripping Fiddleford closer to grind his horned underwear against the smaller man's thigh. "I've tried doin' it with gals since, and none of 'em put out like you did. I don't mean like _regular_ doin' it. I'm talkin' tongue hanging outta your mouth, beggin' for more, can't walk right the next day..." He put his mouth up close to the scientist's ear, saying every edge of the word rough. _"Fucked."_

"It's... been a while," Fiddleford admitted quietly. Stanley clearly wasn't aware of the kind of things Fiddleford's wife liked to do with her fists, but the scientist decided that was between Mrs. McGucket and himself. He was already mimicking Stan's motions, pushing back against the younger man's body in time with his humping... feeling the hardness poking against his leg through a layer of silk.

"Heh. You shivering?"

Fiddleford's eyes darted to the side. "J-just... Don't you dare make fun of me, Stanley, but you keep on talking like that."

Stanley's expression went blank. "Like what?"

The little man shifted his arms against each other. "Th...the swearing."

"No kiddin'? _Cursing_ does it for ya?" Stan seemed genuinely surprised.

Fiddleford wouldn't meet his eyes. "Plenty of odder things out there in the world, don't you think?" Like straight boys giving blowjobs and begging to have sex with another man, he didn't say out loud.

"Right, uh," Stan began, thinking fast for more to say. "Y-you know, that's good. 'Cause my dick wants in your ass _super_ fucking bad right now."

"I can feel it," Fiddleford said, pressing his body close enough for them to feel each other's heartbeats. "Keep going..."

Stan shifted his underwear, letting a dark pink hard-on spring free over the top hem of his boxers. He smoothed his hands up Fiddleford's thighs, lifting the back of the older man's dress shirt tails to slap his shaft between Fiddleford's smooth asscheeks. Rolling it back and forth into his crack. "And you make the best fuckin' noises when you got a dick buried all the way up that tight little keister of yours."

This got a shudder of approval. Fiddleford straddled his legs wide across the white muscle shirt covering young Stan's washboard stomach, unscrewing and handing him the tube of surgical lube. "I _want_ to make those noises," he breathed.

Stan greased all along his tip and shaft with the stuff in the tube, patting a dollop into the cleft of Fiddleford's ass and rubbing it around for good measure. "So you want this big, fat fuckstick, huh? You ready to ride the Stan o' War?" Two fingertips disappeared into the lubed-up skin pucker as Stan asked in his gravelly purr, "You wanna get fucked full'a so much cock, you wanna scream?"

Fiddleford was panting, his growing erection brushing against Stan's chest. All he could do was whimper and nod his head with clear enthusiasm, backing his rear up for a better angle against Stanley's crotch.

"Wow. This really _does_ make your dick jump. Never woulda thought," marveled Stan. He pressed his way inside through the lube, slowly, _slowwwly_ , and slid back out, hearing the scientist yowl and squirm on top of him like a cat in heat. "Mmm. Listen to yourself. You wanna get fucked _so bad_ , don'tcha."

Fiddleford only nodded again, his whole face red down to his shirtcollar.

"That's right. You'll get what you want. Nice big meaty cock bustin' in to fill up that hungry asshole of yours," Stan growled playfully, pushing in again to feel Fiddleford shudder and clench around him with a tiny "s'so good!!"

He stroked the halves of Fiddleford's ass with massive hands, spreading the little man wider for him as he rocked in and away to the sound of quiet lube squelches and Fiddleford's rising whines of pleasure. "Damn. Not even kiddin', Fids, you take gettin' fucked like a champ..."

He listened to the other man's cries getting shorter, more frantic, at his bucks inside. "You gonna fuckin' come again, nerd? Huh?" His giant fist closed around the hardness between Fiddleford's spread legs, giving the skin a few jerks up and down. "You gonna come from bein' fff _fucked_ so good?"

Fiddleford's voice was as shaky as his body: "...uh huh..!"

Stan's words were faltering as well. "Good, 'cause... I might beat ya there," he huffed, grabbing for the scientist's bare hips-- squelching out, plowing in again, over and over. "Lemme see you mess all over the place, with your, uh... your fuck... milk?" He groaned, adding, "I don't even know, I'm running out of stuff to swear ab _ouuuu--"_

Fiddleford clenched up something fierce inside when he came, Stanley was quick to discover. It sent him howling over the peak as well, moments later.

The two lay there, huffing for breath, wet patches hot and slimy between their stomachs.

"That was..." Stanley began, wheezing out in wordless awe. "That was really, _really_ good. And I wasn't even sloshed this time."

Panting, Fiddleford rested his head against the sweaty front of Stan's shirt. He looked conflicted, even as his fingers curled through the larger man's hands. "I... thought so, too."

"No. This is _weird,"_ Stanley protested, yanking their twined fingers apart. "I just banged you, and I don't feel like rifling through your pockets on my way out right away. I want to... STAY here with you." He looked up half-fearfully at Fiddleford. "That's only ever happened to me once before! And she got brainwashed and ran off with a hippie!"

Fiddleford said nothing, staring off into the distance. His 'I'm thinking' pose, Stanley recognized.

"So, uh. Maybe," Stan began, "I don't go for other guys, but... I do for _you?_ Even... more than for gals?" He paused, halting, as he recognized his mind wandering into new territory. "I mean. It's weird, I know. But I _wanna_ make you feel that good again. It felt _great_. D'you think, if your wife doesn't mind... we, could maybe keep on experimenting? Just the two of us? Togeth--"

"Shh-hh," breathed Fiddleford. "You can be quiet for once." He patted an arm that all but dwarfed him, admitting, "I honestly don't know, Stanley. Let's just let this _be_ , for now. Okay?"

"Hnn," Stan agreed, arms folding over his brother's assistant's small body like a shield. Like the outside world might break whatever it was they had, if Stan let go even for a moment.

\------

There were already three charges' worth missing on the memory gun when he picked it up from its case, Fiddleford noticed. He had no idea from what.

He decided not to think about that.

"It's just... easier this way," he said to himself, trying his damnedest not to have his hands shake as he keyed in FIDDLEFORD MCGUCKET to the mindwipe control panel.

"Hey! Nerd!" he heard brightly from behind him. "I know today's monster hunt doesn't start for another hour, but I thought we could, you know..."

Stanley stopped in his tracks at the foot of the basement stairs, seeing the gun in Fiddleford's hand. "What's this about?" he said, a curious grin spreading on his face.

"I am so, _so._ sorry, Stanley," the scientist said mournfully, walking up to aim the gun against Stan's scalp. He couldn't keep his lip from quivering. "Don't worry, it won't hurt."

Stan looked him up and down. "I dunno about this, Fids. Gunplay's a little much, even for--"

"If it makes you feel any better, I want you, too. That's the truth," Fiddleford interrupted. "But... I can't have you." He heaved a deep sigh, stroking fingers from his free hand through his bangs. "My wife said we have to stop. And I don't _want_ to. But I care about you too much to have you be just a dirty little secret."

Stanley only looked confused. "What're you talkin'--"

Fiddleford closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, to a flash of light and the brief smell of burning hair.

\------

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/gerbilmeister/media/clue-thats-how-it-could-have-happened_zpsvgnxl3jh.jpg.html)

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/gerbilmeister/media/clue-what-really-happened_zps2cqkn56g.jpg.html)

Gerbil sat at his desk, sagging in his chair in post-fapping ecstacy. He stared at the videoplayer on the computer screen, paused at a very familiar scene from Society of the Blind Eye.

"How do you make me want to write so much porn about you when you've only had like two minutes of screen time," he murmured, tracing a soiled hand along Fiddleford's face on the screen. "I don't even know what's in _character_ for you yet."

  
And with that, he fell asleep.  



End file.
